love at second sight
by fandrastic
Summary: "you get it, don't you? the compulsion to throw caution to the wind?" eventual spam.
1. shadows of the mess you made

hello lovelies! sorry it took me so damn long to post this! for a while I had really dreadful internet access and then I moved back home for the summer, so I was hardly online... but here's the prologue! hopefully the story will be posted fairly regularly. sorry to say, but I'm notorious for posting rather slowly. but, I'm feeling pretty good about this story. the plot could take a couple different turns-many of which I'm still in debate about, but the basic idea of the plot is sketched out.

anyway, I had such a lovely and heartfelt response from you all with 'scream at the sky' that I really hope that this meets your expectations. you've all been wonderful, my repeat readers, and I do hope with all my heart that you enjoy this story.

here's the prologue!

**blanket disclaimer for ENTIRE story: the author owns nothing that the reader recognizes**

(lyrics lovingly borrowed from _The Gambler by fun. _for the story title and _Mykonos by Fleet Foxes_ for the chapter title)

* * *

**Love at Second Sight**

**_by fandrastic_**

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**_Prologue_**

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**_"A miserable life's not all that bad... sometimes my mother laughs."_**

* * *

Despite the fact that her guidance counselor might say otherwise, Sam Puckett was good at a lot of things.

For one, she could scare even the bulkiest linebacker at Ridgeway into submission by a mere growl and a flash of her teeth. Daniel Hamilton (number 46) learned that the hard way, and spent the rest of the football season in an air cast. Sam could also pick any lock with only the items she kept stored in her pockets. For stronger ones, i.e. deadbolts and chains, she often relied on the metal-cutter she kept at all times in her backpack. Probably most apparently, Sam seemed to have a hollow leg when it came to food, and was able to pack away more trans-fat than seemed humanly fair. This feat made her the envy of the female population at her school, who starved themselves with lettuce and mineral water while Sam lugged around a Ziploc bag stuffed with ribs.

But if there was one thing that Sam excelled at, it was keeping her home life a secret.

During the course of their friendship, Carly had been over to Sam's house numerous times, and each visit stuck out vividly in the other girl's memory. When Sam and Carly were younger, the two girls spent most of their time in Sam's room; playing music and talking and having a generally good time. Sam's mom was around—Spencer wasn't going to let Carly out of his sight unless there was another adult present—but Carly rarely saw her. Sure, there were a few select times that Cheyenne would emerge from her bedroom, looking a drawn and tired as she clutched a pack of Virginia Slims, but she would regale the two girls with stories about growing up in Wichita and winning the Miss Teen Wichita pageant when she was barely 18. Carly was enthralled with these stories, and thought that Sam was so lucky to have a mom that was once a beauty queen. The entire thing sounded very glamorous to the young girl.

Sam, who had been forced into similar pageants as a child (she'd rather die than admit that to Carly), was less enthusiastic about her mother's stories, but it was nice to see Carly so happy. She supposed that since Carly's mom passed away, that her friend missed having an adult female presence around. And for whatever reason, seeing Carly happy made Sam happy, so she listened to her mother go on and on about her glory days.

Sam's dad, Scott Puckett, left when she was in third grade. At the time, her twin sister Melanie was still living with them. Cheyenne and Scott had been fighting for years, and his leaving was the culmination of all the bitter battles between them. He never wanted children, let alone twin girls, and as soon as Cheyenne got a job at a nearby beauty salon, he hopped onto his Harley and was gone, leaving nothing behind but divorce papers and a six-pack in the refrigerator. Sam, who had always idolized her father, found herself losing interest in everything once her dad left—especially school. The once bright and curious girl gave way to one more jaded and disinterested. The faculty at the local elementary school felt it would be best if Sam stayed back a year and repeated third grade. On the other hand, Melanie threw herself into her schoolwork, surpassing all grade level expectations. Practically overnight, she became the family genius.

Once the child support checks started coming in, Cheyenne put Melanie into a private school on the other side of the country. Melanie continued to flourish in Massachusetts, and Sam resented her for it. Melanie was able to leave when Sam couldn't, and the only thing tangible from their father, the child support checks, was being spent to pay for her twin's room and board. The very thought of her sister soon became an irritation to Sam, and although she did love her sister, there was a bitterness that she felt would probably always be there. Cheyenne distracted herself from the divorce by spending more and more time at work, which often left Sam home alone for hours at a time. It was during these long hours that Sam was babysat by their small color television, and took up watching wrestling shows, where she learned exactly how to inflict physical pain on others.

During the summer before Sam and Carly started middle school, Cheyenne lost her job as a beautician at the salon a few miles away from their apartment. Depressed, she didn't bother looking for more work. Then, she started bringing home more and more 'boyfriends', and from that point on, the term itself became synonymous in Sam's mind with 'deadbeat loser who steals all your cash and makes you unhappier than you already are'.

Cheyenne had a pregnancy scare with Paul right before Christmas, and Sam stopped having Carly over for sleepovers. When Alex beat the crap out of Cheyenne in a drunken rage, Sam stopped inviting Carly over in general. And when Damon got her mother hooked on cocaine, Sam stopped calling Carly on the house phone, and instead saved up her money for her own cell phone.

Carly wasn't stupid, she knew something was up with Sam, but whenever she approached her friend about it, Sam had one excuse after another.

"_My mom? Yeah, she made me sit there as she modeled bathing suits. Seriously Carls, my retinas are trashed! You definitely don't want to come over today. As your best friend, I am protecting you from a sight you should never have to witness. You'll thank me later."_

"_Oh, you want to stay over on Saturday? Because I was thinking we'd have a movie night, and nothing says movie night like the flat screen at Maison de Shay! Plus… this way we can sneak out onto Fredwardo's fire escape late at night and make owl noises. You know how he feels about beaked animals."_

"_Why would we celebrate my birthday at my house? Spencer said he'd make me a funfetti cake. You heard me. Funfetti, Carly. Yeah, I know he caught the entire cake on fire last year, but I'm all about forgiveness. I'm like a saint. Plus, it's my birthday—dude, I'm the birthday saint. And the birthday saint wants cake at your place. No arguments. Also, I want steak."_

Distracted by Sam's speeches, Carly would laugh and forget to continue questioning her friend. As time went by, the antics of Sam's 'eccentric' mother became a running joke amongst their close friends, but no one besides Sam really knew what went on at home. So while Sam wasn't the most academically motivated person, she definitely knew how to protect herself.

Throughout her time at Ridgeway, covering for her mother's shortcomings was fairly easy. When Cheyenne wasn't on some crazy coke-bender and practically whoring herself out at some seedy bar, she was actually attentive… in a half-depressed half-guilty way, perhaps, but attentive nonetheless. She always made sure Sam had clean clothes (whether it was buying her new ones with her latest boyfriend's money or giving Sam a roll of quarters for the nearest Laundromat) and she made sure that Sam was healthy—relatively. Things like annual doctor's check-ups and dentist appointments were unheard of, but Cheyenne kept the number for poison control by the phone and had the address for the walk-in clinic memorized.

And all of this, Sam kept secret from her friends. She had never been one to allow pity. She kept this all to herself, and it worked as a distraction from it all as well.

* * *

Sam was also a professional when it came to convincing people that she was incapable; that she didn't work or care or do anything to help anyone other than herself.

The summer before senior year, Sam got a call while she was at Carly's house. When Sam answered her cell phone, she was surprised to hear the voice of her landlord. Apparently, he couldn't get a hold of her mother for the month's rent, banged on their front door until the cheap lock broke, only to find Cheyenne passed out on the floor with a bottle of pills next to her. He called 911, and then Sam as an afterthought.

At the time, Sam and Carly were helping Spencer sort through materials for his latest sculpture. When she answered her phone, she was aware that the keen eyes of the Shay siblings were on her, and she fought to keep her face impassive and her questions vague. Her landlord hung up as soon as the information was passed on, and Sam quickly pocketed her phone. When she quickly headed towards the front door of the apartment, Carly gave a confused call. Sam schooled her features and simply replied with a wave and said it was past her curfew, although it was only two o'clock in the afternoon on a Saturday. Carly seemed a bit in a huff at her friend's abrupt exit, but Spencer—who had noticed the brief flash of panic on Sam's face—had a feeling that something else was up.

Sam didn't see Carly again for another three days, and when she did again, she was all smiles and snarky replies. Carly seemed relieved to have her friend back, but still grilled her about her hasty exited a few days before. Always one step ahead, Sam sold her a story about her great uncle flying in to stay with the family for the summer, which meant less time hanging out with Carly and Freddie during their vacation and more time watching the golf channel with Uncle Morris. Though disappointed, Carly bought the story and wasted no time relaying the information to Freddie in a mad dash across the hall. Spencer looked up from his spot in the by the kitchen island and gave her a pointed look, silently asking her if she was telling the truth. Sam only shrugged and collapsed in a boneless pile on the sofa, occupying herself with her cell phone until Carly returned.

In reality, there was no Uncle Morris. Instead, Cheyenne—she was hardly 'Mom' at this point—had checked into a rehab facility in Olympia. To help cover the costs, Sam got a job for the summer. While she was 18—staying back a year in elementary school gave her a year up on her other friends—not many places were willing to hire someone so young for fulltime. So, Sam went out, got a fake ID and a push-up bra and got a job waiting tables at C.C's, some sports bar downtown. While Carly and Freddie thought she was spending the majority of her summer cooped up with obscure relatives, Sam was actually holding a job to pay for her mother's rehabilitation fees. Neither Carly nor Freddie suspected a thing, but one evening in early August, her cover was blown.

* * *

Of all the people she expected to see at work, Spencer Shay was not one of them. He didn't really come off as the whole 'baseball-watching beer-drinker' like the majority of the patrons she dealt with. Needless to say, Sam was stunned when she saw him being half-dragged in by a giggling woman wearing a Mariners jersey. That night there was a home game at Safeco Field and C.C.'s was packed; all eyes on the many television screens broadcasting the game. From his seat next to that laughing red haired woman, Spencer glanced up at one of the screens, and then scanned the expanse of the bar before his gaze settled on Sam.

Before she could even gauge his reaction, Sam turned back to the bar and told one of her co-workers she was taking her break, before making a beeline for the front exit. The noise level in the bar prevented her from hearing Spencer stumble over barstools and half-drunk patrons in his race to catch up with her, but even without hearing him, Sam knew he was following her.

There was a light drizzle of rain outside, not uncommon for Seattle, but Sam kept dry underneath the awning of the bar as she leaned back against the damp brick façade. The soft scuffing of shoes on pavement alerted her that Spencer had found her.

"Sam…"

It was a statement more than anything else, as if he was waiting for her to simply spill her guts out to him. Instead she shrugged.

"Spencer," she replied, dipping her chin in acknowledgement in his direction.

She debated on calling him 'LaTisha McPeanuts', but the stiflingly serious air between them tamped down on any desire to make quips. There was a strange intensity in his gaze that she decided to avoid all together, instead focusing her eyes on the fraying hem of her too-short work skirt.

"Carly said she's hardly seen you this summer; that you've been spending your vacation at home with your uncle. You've barely been by the loft."

His words hung awkwardly in the air. Normally, he would've made some comment about how she was normally at his loft more often than he was, but now was not the time.

"Well," Sam crossed her arms over her chest, "idle Pucketts are dangerous. My Uncle Morris likes to be entertained. He doesn't like being left by himself. It was my mother's idea to ruin my summer."

His brow furrowed.

"I stopped by your place earlier this afternoon. Carly wanted me to drop off some ideas for your web show this weekend, but nobody was there."

Sam felt her face grow pale. Usually, Spencer was the easiest person for her to convince, he was so trusting by nature, but standing here, outside of a sports bar in a stupid skimpy work uniform, telling lies about a made-up great uncle didn't seem to be working on him.

"No? Maybe my mom took him—"

"I went to leave the stuff in the mailbox, it was full. It didn't look like anyone had checked it for days, maybe a week." Spencer continued as if Sam hadn't even spoken.

He was right; she hadn't been getting the mail. It was a passive aggressive way for Sam to pretend that the whole 'rehab' situation with her mother wasn't happening—if she didn't bring in the mail, she didn't bring in the bills.

Her face fell.

"And now I find you at some sports bar, serving drinks? Sam, what's going on?"

His voice was low, concerned. It wasn't often that Spencer was this grave, and that itself caused alarm to worry away at her. She spared a glance in his direction and felt her resolve waver. Wetting her lips and searching for words, she sighed.

"I'm fine, nothing's wrong."

"You're not fine, because the Sam I know doesn't hold down secret jobs in bars. Something's going on, Sam; you've got to tell me. Are you in trouble?"

"No."

"Sam—"

"No, Spencer," her voice pleaded, "I'm not… I, damn it, just promise me you won't tell Carly. I don't want… I don't want to worry her. She just can't know about this. You can't tell her."

Her eyes were beginning to water and she hated herself for it. She wanted to scream, but her throat felt too tight, almost too tight to let her breathe. She could count on one hand the number of times she allowed someone other than Carly to see her cry, and the more her tears wavered on the edge of her lashes, the more she wanted to run away.

With a gentle nod, he agreed, bringing her attention back to the concern in his expressive features.

"Tell me, Sam."

Eyes fluttering shut briefly, she exhaled once more.

"My… okay, this sounds a lot worse than it is, all right? My mom sort of, well, overdosed about three weeks ago," she cringed as she watched his eyes widen considerably, "After they released her from the hospital, she checked into rehab. We, uh… we didn't have the money on hand to pay for it, so I got a job to help cover the fees. I mean, my mom gets unemployment checks, but it's not enough for her sixty day stay. It's not a big deal though—the working part. That's why I didn't tell Carly or Freddie. They don't need to worry about it. I tried to find a job away from Bushwell; I didn't want anyone to find out about it. Mel knows about it too, she's got a job out in Boston. She sends a check every week. We're fine. It's nothing that anyone else needs to worry about."

The last part of her statement was forceful; Sam Puckett didn't take lightly to sympathy, even if it was from people she trusted. But, once more she let out a shaky breath, forcing herself to keep her tears at bay.

Spencer continued to stare at her, as if he simply couldn't fathom how someone as vibrant and brash as Sam could take on so much on her own. Her mother was in rehab? Sixty day residential rehab was serious business—only longtime drug users checked in that long. How long had Sam been living with a strung-out mother? How could she not have ever said anything, ever asked for help?

But all the pieces began to fall into place.

"_Hey Carly, can I shower here? There's something wrong with the pipes at home and since my mom's dated all of the plumbers in a ten mile radius, we're out of luck for a free fix until her next paycheck."_

He remembered Carly laughing amusedly at that—and how a small smile had tugged at his own lips.

"_So I've decided that I'm spending the night. I'd be over here first thing in the morning anyway; I might as well crash on the couch, right?"_

Carly had merely smiled and gushed over sleepover-y things that the two of them could do during Sam's stay. Sam had been staying over so often lately that her 'decision' to stay hadn't even fazed him at the time.

"_No, I'm not going on that fieldtrip for Civics. Why the hell would I want to spend the day at the state capital building? Oh? So, big deal, it's an overnight trip. Like I need to be sleeping anywhere near you and your nerd friends, Freducation. I don't want to exposed to all that nerd energy."_

Freddie had frowned at the insult while Carly had gone on and on about the $150 trip fees. Sam instead talked about all the fun she'd have skipping class those two days.

How could he not have seen the signs?

"_I'm starving; don't you people have any food in this place? I had to walk all the way here—did you know that the bus doesn't go past my house anymore? What do they expect me to do? Rollerblade my ass down here? Oh, no offense, Spencer…"_

Sam had always managed to cover up her misfortunes with sarcasm, but now… standing with her outside of some sports bar, with her in a uniform that he certainly wasn't used to seeing on her frame, Spencer was finally reading between the lines.

Her mother was a serial dater, and a lot of the time, Sam was hesitant to stay home. He imagined the type of guys her mother would invite over—the very thought made his jaw clench. No teenage girl should have to be afraid of her mother's boyfriends. Oftentimes, Sam would force sleepovers on Carly just so she wouldn't have to spend the night under the same roof as some of those guys. She didn't go on class trips because she couldn't afford them, not with her mother spending her unemployment checks on drugs and God knows what else. And why else would Sam eat constantly at their house, and yet be as skinny as she was? Spencer doubted she ate at home at all.

She was still standing in front of him, head lowered. Her hands were at her sides and balled into fists as she tried to keep her emotions in check. She knew he was processing what he had just heard from her, and to finally have someone else know about her home life… it made her nauseous.

"Sam…" He murmured, debating on pulling her into a hug.

This was one of his _kiddos_. She had been crying for help for so long, but no one had been able to understand. He quelled the urge to comfort her with an embrace, and settled on searching her face for any hint to what she was honestly feeling.

At the sound of his voice, Sam seemed to regain some semblance of awareness, and she squared her shoulders. Lifting her head, she affixed a determined look on her surprisingly gentle features. It always amazed Spencer as to how someone as feminine looking as Sam was, could harbor such strength; both physical, and now emotional.

"It's all right, Spencer."

Her voice was steady—she was trying to convince the both of them that she was all right. But he wasn't buying it. Guilt mixed with frustration and he ran a hand through his hair angrily.

"No, it's _not_ all right! You're working in a bar to pay for your mother's rehab! Sam, you're still in high school! Carly and Freddie don't have any idea what's going on with you—"

"—and we're going to keep it that way." Her tone left no room for argument, "Promise me, Spencer. They can't know about this. Carly worries too much over everything, she doesn't need to worry about this. She and Freddie would only be upset if they knew what was going on. I'm protecting them."

It never occurred to him that Sam had been making up these lies for Carly and Freddie's sakes. He knew his younger sister worried over every little thing, and that Freddie's mother had made him just as neurotic as she was. By making light of the darkness that was truly her personal life, Sam was really protecting her two best friends from worrying themselves to death.

"You really do love them, don't you?" He breathed, his brow knit. This was a lot to take in all at once.

She gave a small smile.

"You guys are the only good things I have going for me. I can't mess that up."

"But Sam," Spencer shook his head, "you could've come to me for help, you know that. You could've stayed with us and—"

"Spence," she chuckled softly, kicking at the ground with the toe of her converse, "I couldn't do that. This is my burden—mine and Melanie's. And we're handling it. _I'm handling it, Spence_. I'm fine."

He let her words sink in and he gave her a long look. It was apparent that he was not pleased with the situation, but knew that Sam was strong-willed and wouldn't accept assistance—if there was any that he could provide

"Just… promise that you'll call. If you're in trouble, promise that you'll call."

With a nod, she agreed.

"I've got to get back to work. Plus, I bet your date is looking for you." She spoke, her tone heavy with finality.

Arms folded protectively across her chest, she spared him one last glance before heading back inside. Spencer watched her leave, well aware that she was no longer the kiddo he thought she was. Sam had given up her childhood a long time ago, though she hid it well. The person he had just spoken to wasn't a kid, she was a woman… and one who had seen and heard far too much for one so young.

It was with a reluctant sigh that Spencer returned inside the sports bar. He met his date's confused gaze with a frown, which she soon returned. A muttered apology was all he offered her before he moved to the exit once more. Before he left, he felt Sam's eyes on him and he turned to gauge her emotions. A look passed between them. Head spinning and heart heavy, he walked out into the cool night air once again and headed back to the loft.

* * *

Needless to say, that summer before senior year was strange for everyone. Not only was Sam busy with her secret job—or as Carly and Freddie thought, spending time with her uncle—but Spencer was acting weirder than usual. He spent more time than he normally did down at the scrap yard searching for materials for sculptures, and was always up late. He hardly went to bed before three in the morning. Carly could sense that something was wrong with her brother, but every time she'd approach him about his behavior, he'd clam up. Normally she could get him to admit most anything—lying was not one of his strong points, but the fact that he was remaining so tight-lipped about whatever was affecting him meant that it was most likely serious. Still, she chalked it up to something artist-y and let him be, but she was, nevertheless, unsettled.

Things got better a week or two before classes started up. Sam began showing up at the loft again, looking thinner and a bit drained, but she smiled at Carly and tripped Freddie, so things seemed almost back to normal. Spencer was still acting out of the ordinary, keeping silent observation on the three of them as they joked and laughed together in the kitchen. While Carly didn't think that Sam's summer vanishing act and Spencer's subdued activities were related, she watched the two of them just to make sure they were okay. Her brother seemed to shake out of his funk when Sam burst into the loft the weekend before school started, throwing him a boisterous greeting as she continued towards the refrigerator on her quest for ribs. Perhaps _everyone_ at Bushwell missed Sam's (oftentimes violent) spontaneity. Regardless, as soon as senior year started, Spencer was back to his old self, much to Carly's relief.

* * *

By the time classes were in full swing, the summer had already been forgotten. Still, as much as things had returned to normal, there was a shift in the normalcy of their environment. While Carly, Freddie and Sam were still as thick as thieves, the discussions between them all had turned from what subjects to cover on their next show (_gluing Lewbert to his desk or his chair?_) to majors and minors (_poli-sci or communications?_) and it was clear, at least to Spencer, that Sam was feeling the pressure. In all actuality, Sam wasn't applying to any schools, but neither of her best friends knew that. She knew she didn't have the grades to get in anywhere worthwhile, and even if she did, there wasn't enough financial aid in the world to help her pay for it. Besides, with her mother fresh from rehab, Sam was spending her extra free time at home, making sure that Cheyenne wasn't slipping back into her comfortable old habits. It was just easier to tell Carly and Freddie that she was just going to apply to one of the local community colleges, than explain to them why she couldn't.

As for what had transpired between Sam and Spencer outside of that bar; it hadn't been mentioned since. She had never taken him up on his offer and called him for help, but there was now an unspoken agreement between the two of them. Sam knew that she could trust Spencer to keep her secrets, just as he trusted her to stay safe. Every once in a while when she was over at the loft, she'd catch him giving her a serious look, as if asking her with his eyes if she was actually okay, to which she'd dutifully respond with a nod. Spencer wasn't her guardian, or her older brother, but he was a friend and was looking out for her.

Other than college acceptances looming on the horizon, things were practically back to normal. Sam hung around the loft again like she owned the place, Spencer was back to his jovial, eccentric self, and although Carly and Freddie were stressed out with the idea of their futures before them, they were just as they always were. Once again, iCarly flourished, practically setting record breaking video hits each time they had a live webcast. By popular demand, both Gibby and Spencer were just about regulars on the show, and iCarly was getting more and more recognition. It was due to his computer expertise on the web show that Freddie was offered a full scholarship to USC—his mother cried at the idea of him going to college so far away, but was also terribly proud of her only child. Carly, although not given a full ride, was also vetted by several schools in California, who were aiming to have one of the internet's most popular faces attend their school. She finally settled on UC Berkeley, which pleased all parties involved. Mrs. Benson was ecstatic that Carly would be a mere hour away from her beloved son—she was still crossing her fingers that the two of them would finally 'go steady', as she put it.

All in all, things were looking up. Freddie actually managed to convince Carly to go to prom with him (Sam had never seen the nub so ecstatic), Spencer was dating some girl who worked at a nearby bookstore, and Sam's own mother was currently involved with some tattoo artist named Ace. Sam didn't care who her mother dated, as long as she didn't fall back into her old, destructive habits. Sam herself had a few casual boyfriends during her senior year, before eventually reuniting with Pete for prom. The two of them ended up breaking things off a little before graduation—they liked each other well enough, but Pete was headed to Brown in the fall and they were both in agreement that there wasn't any use in attempting a long-distance relationship.

As graduation steadily drew nearer, Sam noticed that her mother was spending less time at home, and more time over at her new boyfriend's house. With her mother's horrendous track record, she immediately thought the worse; that Cheyenne was back to her old ways. Still, every time her mother returned home, she was clean and sober, and it honestly didn't seem like she was back to using. It was strange, her mother seemed genuinely happy with her new boyfriend, but she was so secretive about the whole thing that Sam never really knew what was going on.

A few nights before the graduation ceremony, Sam returned home after an iCarly rehearsal at Bushwell, only to find a note left on the kitchen table and $600 stuck to the refrigerator. Apparently, Cheyenne and Ace were eloping to Las Vegas, where they were also planning on settling down. Sam skimmed the lines of the note where her mother rambled on and on about how Ace had a cousin in Henderson with a tattoo parlor of his own, and instead she set her gaze on the more crucial aspects of the message. According to her mother, their apartment lease was up in a month, and Sam could either re-lease it herself, or take the $600 to find a place of her own.

She wasn't sad—she was _furious._ After all the money that she had invested in her mother's rehab, this was how she was repaid? A note and a few hundreds? She crumpled up the note and called her twin. Melanie had recently finished her first year at Boston University—Sam had stayed back in third grade and was thus a year behind her—and was staying in Boston for the summer. She informed her sister as to what was going on with their mother, Sam pausing over the line as Melanie cried, and explained to her that as soon as she graduated in a few days, Sam was leaving Seattle for a while. She had been taking care of her mother for so long that she had wasted her teenage years on that woman, and now she was going to make up for lost time by doing whatever the hell she wanted. Melanie made her promise that she wouldn't get herself arrested, and that she would call and check in at least four times a week. Sam managed to lower the number of calls to twice a week, and the two of them agreed on it. That night, Sam went to bed in an empty apartment with $600 burning a hole in her wallet.

Graduation was a blur. Before the ceremony started, Carly kept trying in vain to hold back tears, as not to ruin her makeup, while Freddie (_Valedictorian_ Fredward Benson) kept muttering the words of his speech over and over to himself as not to forget it. Sam slung her arms casually over both of their shoulders, smiling up at Spencer, who was a little misty-eyed himself, as he snapped a picture of the three of them. Mrs. Benson was taking pictures as well, but her wailing sobs made holding the camera quite the challenge.

After the ceremony was over, they posed for more pictures, the three of them complaining how their cheeks hurt from so much smiling. Everyone was in good spirits, even Mrs. Benson, until Spencer noticed that Cheyenne was nowhere in sight. As they all were walking towards the parking lot, Carly and Freddie screaming a rousing version of 'Pomp and Circumstance', Spencer pulled Sam aside.

"Where's your mother?" He asked softly, searching her face.

She replied with an offhanded shrug.

"Who the hell knows?"

With that, she jogged up ahead to meet Carly and Freddie, singing just as loud as the two brunettes combined.

Stunned, it took Spencer a minute to regain his bearings. An unsettling mixture of anger and sadness flooded his senses. He was angry that Sam hadn't bothered to tell him what was going on with her mother—she promised that she'd call if she was in trouble, and yet he felt so bad for her, that her mother didn't even have the decency to attend her daughter's graduation. Still, tonight was supposed to be a night of celebration. He wouldn't spoil the evening and upset Sam by asking her about it again, she certainly deserved a break. He'd talk to her about it in the morning.

The only problem with that was that when morning came, Sam was gone.

* * *

and there's the prologue! the beginning of the story will be a little dark, sorry if that is off-putting to any of you. trust me though, it will definitely lighten up. ALSO-there may end up being some M-rated stuff, so if it comes to that, I'll definitely let you all know. the story will most likely keep its T-rating, and the links for the M-rated stuff will be posted on my livejournal, so you can always look there-of course, if the story turns that way.

thanks for reading and let me know what you think of the story so far!

x

fandrastic


	2. drove to chicago, all things know

hello! finally, I'm back with the first real chapter! everyone who reviewed and read the prologue-THANK YOU SO MUCH. believe me, I was so nervous to post this because I so want to do justice to this pairing.

extra love goes out to lovelyMESS, xXBleedingRosesXx, IronishRose, little. miss. awesome, SkiCan, 11konstantine11, Rosalie Dark Moore for reviewing. thank you all from the bottom of my head.

here's the first chapter! it's a series of letters, text messages, instant messages... etc. here's hoping that it makes sense!

(lyrics lovingly borrowed from _Chicago by Sufjan Stevens_ for the chapter title)

* * *

**Chapter One**

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* * *

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******_"_**_If you knew my secret, you'd call the police!"_

* * *

_June 27__th__,_

_Dearest Carly Taylor Shay,_

_I'm in Berkeley! A little birdie told Mama that someone (you!) would be attending some snazzy Californian University in the fall, and being the thoughtful, loving, and completely wholesome best friend that I am (please, hold back your laughter), I decided to take a look at the place. You're welcome. Also, I approve and am very, very proud of you._

_But perhaps first, you'd like a little back story on my summer sabbatical. If you haven't already figured it out, my apartment is no longer, well… my apartment. My mom eloped with her crazy boyfriend (seriously Carls, his name is Ace) just before we graduated and instead of me sticking around in Seattle and trying to be responsible; I decided I'd take a little break from everything._

_But here's the thing, kid. I'm all right, 100% A-OK. You, more than anyone, know how crazy my mom is, and she's happy with her weirdo boyfriend, so whatever, right? On a more serious note, you know I wasn't happy there, and it's better that I'm finally getting some space._

_As for when I'll be back… I'm not entirely sure. I've only been on the road for like… a week? Ten days or something? And let me tell you—it's pretty damn fantastic. Sure, I've been complaining about the price of gas like most Americans (and I shudder at that fact!), but I'm finally doing something for myself. I know you'll all argue that I already do a lot for myself, but this is different. This is… cathartic or whatever. I think the term I'm looking for is cathartic. So I honestly can't say when I'll be back. I won't be gone forever, that I can promise you, but I don't think I'll be back soon._

_Anyway—your campus looks awesome. The dorms look pretty nice (totally jimmied the lock on one of them) and I've definitely seen like a handful of smokin' hot guys, so you're in luck. I'd buy some merch and send it to you, but I'm cheap as hell (surprise? no.) and besides, that's something you should be doing for me in the fall. I want a sweatshirt. Possibly an overpriced water bottle. Yeah, definitely a water bottle._

_I know this letter's probably not the greatest way for me to break the news to you of my excursion, but who doesn't like getting mail? I sold my laptop (you know that really cool custom one I saved up for?) so I could pay for gas and so forth, so e-mailing is out of the question until I can acquire a new one. Since I don't exactly have a permanent address, you can't write me back just yet, and my phone probably won't work in a month or so when they realize I'm not paying the bill, but once I finally do settle down somewhere, I'll find a way for us both to stay in better contact. Because we will—I'm not falling off the face of the earth, don't worry about that._

_I'm sorry I won't be around to watch you and the nub head off to school, but know that I'll be thinking of you two collegiate individuals in late August while I travel the countryside. And don't worry, I'll be sending a letter to Fredweird as well; you can tell him to wait vigilantly by his mailbox or whatever. Sounds like something he'd enjoy._

_And you can tell Spencer… well, you can tell him whatever you want. Tell him that I'm awesome. And charming. But yeah, I'll send him a letter too, you can tell him that. Like I said, everyone loves mail._

_All right kiddo, well I'm running out of room on the back of this flyer for spaying and neutering pets. Stole it from a notice board by some veterinarian's office. Some lady in paw print scrubs chased after me. Wish I had taken a picture._

_Stay brune._

_-Sam_

* * *

_June 29__th__,_

_The Incredible Fredible Benson,_

_Greetings from Los Angeles!_

_I'm sure that both you and Carly have salivated over the letter I sent to her the other day. I'm assuming you've heard the gist of it all._

_Did you feel abandoned by me? Well, if you did, it honestly wasn't my intent. Just trying to keep it real, Benson. (Just in case you weren't sure, that's Sam-speak for 'I'm sorry if I worried you over my sudden disappearance'.)_

_Anyway, like you probably already know, I took quite the jaunt down the west coast and found myself, in all places, at USC. After stopping at Carly's school of course—I know my geography. Once again, I must repeat, nice digs, nerd. I almost want you or Carly to kidnap me and store me in your dorm room with you when you move in. Almost, except I'm currently addicted to this 'open road, born to be wild' crap that I keep hearing about. Or… it could be because the truck stop that I'm writing this letter outside of is blasting some serious Steppenwolf. HEAVY METAL THUNDER!_

_Soooo, as you know from Carly's letter (and if you haven't read it, you should—it's a great piece of modern literature) I'm doing well, despite my reasons for leaving. I didn't want to tell you all when this was happening because things were so stressful with graduation and whatnot. Nice valedictorian speech, by the way. I did actually pay attention. You did good, Freddie. I'm a proud Mama._

_Now, now, don't get all emotional on me you two (I bet Carly's busy reading over your shoulder), because everything is cool. Besides, you guys won't really be missing me too much because you wouldn't see me while you were at school anyway, right? Because as tempting as it sounds, I don't think any of you can let me hide out in your dorms._

_Also, Freditorial—Los Angeles? Does your mother know about the smog? I bet she's making you pack all sorts of air purifiers and face masks. Please, send me pictures. I'd love to see you on your first day, all spiffed up with your new shoes and a gas mask. Just like old times._

_Well, I've got to get going. I have to find a place to stay before nightfall; otherwise I'll have to sleep in my car like a homeless person. Which I did the other day, but I wasn't in the middle of some sketchy city like I am now. Sorry, that wasn't reassuring, was it? I'm fine, no worries._

_Also, in case you haven't cracked it yet, the password I changed your SplashFace account to is 'samiscoolerthanyou'. Maybe you shouldn't make your passwords so obvious, 'techboybenson'._

_-Sam_

* * *

_July 2__nd_

_Spence,_

_I'm going to take a wild guess and assume that Carly and Freddie have already let you read the letters I sent them, or they at least paraphrased it for you. Which is good, they should have done so. But you don't have to share this with them if you don't want to._

_I know I sort of blew you off after graduation when you asked about my mom, but you know… I was just so glad to finally be done with school and not have to worry about her anymore that, I don't know, I just didn't want to rehash all of that, especially with the children around—you know how I feel about Carlotta and Fredhead overhearing all that crap. So I'm sorry if I made everyone worry needlessly, especially you, when I left._

_Ah, I know Carly and Freddie's letters were more cheerful than this one, but I think you'd agree that we have a mutual understanding of sorts when it comes to… well, everything pertaining to the illustrious Cheyenne. So here's what happened: the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. I swear on the world's fattest priest. _

_A few days before graduation, I came home to find my mom gone. She'd been seeing this tattoo artist for a few months, and she was better, you know? But anyway, she left me a note saying that they were eloping or something to Las Vegas, where they planned on settling down. All her stuff was gone; well the worthwhile stuff, at least._

_Whatever, right? I clearly didn't mean enough to her to make her stay, so just… whatever. But what the bigger issue was that the apartment lease was up in a month, so she left me a little over half a grand and told me I could either re-lease, or find someplace else._

_So… that's what I'm doing. I'm finding someplace else. Right now, I'm obviously in California—see the postmark?—but I don't think I'm staying here. It's too hot here, definitely not my kind of scene._

_I think I'll probably be heading towards Chicago. I was born there, did you know that? Always liked it there too; Lake Michigan… and deep dish pizza. So don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I need this time to finally do something on my own._

_You know that I spent all that time in high school cleaning up the mess that my mom had made. I think I just need to get away from Seattle for a while. You get it, don't you? The compulsion to throw caution to the wind? Well even if you don't, that's what I'm doing._

_I promise I'll keep in touch with you all._

_-Sam_

_p.s._

_I wanted to thank you for being there for me when I needed someone. Even if I never really took you up on it._

* * *

_August 11__th_

"Sam Puckett!"

Recoiling from the scream that erupted from the receiver in her hand, Sam rolled her eyes, but couldn't help but smile a little as well.

"At your service, Ms. Shay. What can I assist you with this evening?"

Another irritated noise sounded, and this time Sam grinned.

"Why haven't you called? We've all been so worried about you."

"Ugh, you sound like my sister," Sam lamented, leaning lazily against the payphone, "and that is never a compliment, Carls. I haven't called because I've been doing some hardcore traveling. I'm essentially a gypsy, I'll have you know. Minus the tambourine. And the loyal goat sidekick."

Carly gave a soft laugh.

"Yeah, that's what I hear. Where are you now?"

"Eh, somewhere between a rock and a hard place, according to my calcula—"

"Sam!"

"All right, all right, I just got to Peoria. Illinois, by the way. And if you're looking to whip out your atlas, it's north of Springfield. I _told_ you I did some hardcore traveling."

"Peoria… oh, right there, I see it…" Carly murmured, and Sam knew she was looking at a map, "so, any idea how long you'll be there?"

"What can I say, Shay? Mama is a rolling stone. But I probably won't be here long. Peoria is lame. Well, not really, it's pretty decent as far as cities go, but I'm not planning on sticking around long enough to like it."

"Oh. Well, Spencer said you're probably going to head to Chicago. Are you? Because settling down there, forever how long… Chicago's really far, Sam—like… completely different time zone far."

Sam distracted herself for a moment by reading some of the etched graffiti on the payphone booth.

"Yeah well, change is good. All things must pass. All that good stuff, right? Chicago's a blast, just so you know. But your brother is correct, that's my goal. At least for now."

A sad sigh reached her ears, and she frowned.

"Sam, I know you had a lot going on in your life, and you wanted to get away from it all for a while, but don't you think it's time for you to come home?"

"Home? Carly, the apartment is gone, I don't have a home in Seattle."

"You have the loft! You've always had the loft!" Carly insisted.

Although her best friend couldn't see the action, Sam shook her head vehemently.

"No, I'm not going to lurk around Bushwell just because it's the easy way out—you know that, Carly. You know I can't just give up and come crawling back to you and Spencer, begging for a place to stay. Just… let me see the world a little, okay? Let me get this out of my system, and I'll come back."

"You promise?"

"Yes, yes, of course I promise. Like any of you can function properly without me for long, anyway. Sheesh."

"But when, Sam? When are you coming home?" Carly continued, worry still laced into her tone.

"Don't know. Honestly Carls, I don't know. When I'm ready, I guess. I'll come back when I'm ready. It won't be forever."

"All right," Carly sighed, "go wander, do whatever it is that you need to do. Just come back in one piece, okay?"

Sam smiled once more, and she knew that it reached her voice.

"Sure thing, dollface. Now, I've got to find me a place to stay for the night. I'll call tomorrow around…hmm, six-ish. Invite the nerd over, and then you can put my dulcet tones on speakerphone."

This made Carly laugh, which helped lighten the mood of the phone call.

"I'll be sure to inform Freddie. Goodnight, Sam."

"Night, Carly."

* * *

_September 9__th_

_**invisible_ninja is online**_

_techjunkie: SAM! YOU'RE ONLINE_

**invisible_ninja: way to state the obvious, fredwardo. so what's shakin' bacon? mmm… bacon…**

_techjunkie: No, seriously Sam, how are you online? Carly said you sold your laptop._

**invisible_ninja: mama has her ways ;)**

_techjunkie: Sam…_

**invisible_ninja: fine. i got a job & bought a cheap laptop.**

_techjunkie: Whoa, a job? Didn't you just rent an apartment the other day? How did you do that?_

**invisible_ninja: oh fredalupe, how the seattle public school system has failed you… okay, so money is used in exchange for goods & services**

_techjunkie: SAM!_

**invisible_ninja: LOL keep your panties on, princess. what did you mean with your shock & awe then?**

_techjunkie: I was just surprised that you were able to do this all so fast, that's all. But yes, I know you need the job to pay for the flat and the laptop, I'm not completely stupid, you know :)_

**invisible_ninja: good to hear. so yes, mama's finally making her way in the world. i hear you are as well—didn't your classes start the other day or something?**

_techjunkie: Yeah, and things are going really, really well so far. I'm almost surprised._

**invisible_ninja: you're just glad that your crazy mom isn't there to pinch your cheeks & take your picture in front of all the pretty college buildings.**

_techjunkie: That… is very true. So, tell me about your job! Is there a chain of Chili-My-Bowl out there in Chi-Town?_

**invisible_ninja: #1- don't ever say chi-town unless you're kanye west. #2- there are no chili-my-bowl places. but i work at this coffee shop. the nice part is that i get free java whenever the hell i want, but the downside is that i have to put up with all these stupid hipsters. they're worse than in seattle!**

_techjunkie: Hahahaha! Well, minus the hipsters, it sounds like your kind of place of business._

**invisible_ninja: damn right it is**

_techjunkie: Sam, are you happy? Because Carly worries about you a lot, and I do too. Right after you left, Spencer spent a lot of time trying to convince us that this… expedition of yours would be good for you, but we do worry._

**invisible_ninja: i know you guys worry, but i promise that i'm perfectly fine. this has been really good for me. plus now i have my own place & a job that i can actually stand. i'm happy, freddie. of course i miss you two crazy kids, but i'm happy.**

_techjunkie: Well good. Say, I've got to get to class, but I'll message you later, all right?_

**invisible _ninja: sounds good. ttyl fredbag**

_techjunkie: Bye Sam! :)_

* * *

_October 16__th_

_To: shaysculptures at gmail. com_

_From: invisibleninja at icarly. com_

_S-_

_I might be mistaken, but I'm pretty sure that this article that I found on the Seattle Time's website is about YOU!_

_Spencer! Congratulations on getting your Christmas light sculpture into that gallery! Carly was telling me how hard you had been working on that over the summer, and I just wanted to say that I'm happy for you, Spence. We're all glad that you're finally getting the recognition you deserve._

_Send me some pictures, will you?_

_-S_

* * *

**October 17th**

**To: invisibleninja at icarly. com**

**From: shaysculptures at gmail. com**

**Attached Files: gallery1. png, gallery2. png , gallery3. png**

**SAM!**

**I didn't know you read newspaper articles—even if they are online! I'm impressed! But anyway, thanks for the e-mail. I almost think that Carly was more excited about the gallery piece than I was. Well, probably not, but it at least seemed like it. I've attached some pictures of the place so you can see how snazzy my 'light-cicles' piece looked in the gallery.**

**So, how's Chicago? I've only been hearing secondhand stories from Carly and Freddie's e-mails, but it seems like you're doing just fine. That's good to hear, Sam.**

**Not to start sounding like a serious adult or anything, but I just wanted you to know that I understand why you left, and I support your decisions. But I wasn't kidding when I said that I'm here for you if you ever need anything.**

**Don't be a stranger.**

**-Spencer**

* * *

_November 14__th_

_iCarlotta: Saaaaaaaaam! I know you're there!_

_**invisible_ninja is now visible**_

**invisible_ninja: dammit shay, you're always blowing my cover!**

_iCarlotta: Yeah well, it's my job. But anyway, I have an important question. Are you coming home for Christmas?_

_iCarlotta: Sam?_

**invisible_ninja: err… about that…**

_iCarlotta: SAM! Are you?_

**invisible_ninja: …no. melanie is coming out here to chicago to spend x-mas with me. i don't have the cash to fly back to seattle, & i definitely don't have the time off from work to drive there. plus… i don't want to drive there. it's a long-ass drive.**

_iCarlotta: But Sam! We haven't seen you in like 6 months!_

**invisible_ninja: i know doll, it's been way too long. but i'll try & visit sometime soon, okay? my schedule is kinda crazy right now, i'm working a shit-ton of hours right now because my boss has me coming in early in the mornings to bake muffins & whatnot. damn coffee shop.**

_iCarlotta: I thought you liked working there?_

**invisible_ninja: i do & i actually like baking, it just makes for a long work week. in fact, i'm pretty damn excellent at baking. OH. I FORGOT TO TELL YOU.**

_iCarlotta: What?_

**invisible_ninja: mama's got a date for this friday ;)**

_iCarlotta: Oooh, with who?_

**invisible_ninja: some goddamn hipster who plays acoustic guitar all the time at the shop on open-mic nights. he's not my type but he's hot & he sings & he thinks i'm funny. which i am, so he's also smart. his name is elliot.**

_iCarlotta: I'm so happy for you! Aww, have lots of fun and don't forget to tell me all about it, promise?_

**invisible_ninja: ugh, promise. i'll call you when it's over, sound good?**

_iCarlotta: YAY! All right, future Mrs. Elliot Hipster, I've got finals to study for. Call me tomorrow when you're free._

**invisible_ninja: will do. night-y night, shay.**

_iCarlotta: goodnight, Sam!_

* * *

_December 20__th_

To: icarlotta at icarly. com, techjunkie at icarly. com , shaysculptures at gmail. com

From: invisibleninja at icarly. com

Happy Holidays!

This is Melanie and Sam! Sam's annoyed that I'm sending this from her e-mail account, but she said, and I quote, "No one in their right mind would open a message if it said it's from your e-mail address, Mel", so that's why this is a joint affair. But it's mostly from me, Melanie. :)

We're here to just let you know that everything out here in Chicago is fine, despite the fact that there have already been several feet of lake-effect snow since my arrival! Sam thinks it's hilarious to make large amounts of snowballs and stuff them in the freezer just in case the "opportunity presents itself". Oh Sam.

Anyway, things are just fine. I flew in a few days ago from Boston after I finished my finals and Sam and I are working especially hard to make sure we're having a proper Christmas dinner. You know how she gets about her holiday meals! Actually, Sam's doing a lot more baking than ever before. Did she tell you that her boss has her making up new recipes at work? She's amazing at it! I'm very proud of her—perhaps she's found her passion!

Also, Elliot's coming over for Christmas dinner as well. He and Sam have been together for over a month now, and don't tell her I said this, but I think they're pretty serious about each other. He's very sweet to her, so mild-mannered. It's funny how well they get along, what with them being complete opposites! Clearly, he's very fond of her, and he makes her happy, so I approve (as a good sister should!).

Well, I just wanted to send this quick e-mail to let you know how things are, and that Sam's doing really well out here in Chicago. We haven't heard anything from Mom yet, but then again, we don't expect to, even if it is the holidays. No matter though, we're happy.

Have a lovely Christmas in Seattle!

Love,

Melanie (and Sam, sort of!)

* * *

_February 9__th_

**To: Carly**

**From: Sam**

**txt: carly? you awake?**

_To: Sam_

_From: Carly_

_txt: __Sam? What's wrong? It's almost two in the morning, which means it's even later your time! Are you all right?_

**To: Carly**

**From: Sam**

**txt: i don't know, carls. how… how do you know when you love someone? like really love someone?**

_To: Sam_

_From: Carly_

_txt:__What? Love? OMG are you in love with Elliot?_

**To: Carly**

**From: Sam**

**txt: pssh no. well i don't think i am. but he told me tonight that he loved me. i've known him for like 3 months. how the hell can he love me?**

_To: Sam_

_From: Carly_

_txt: __I guess some people just fall fast, and they just know when they're in love. Like my parents for instance—they dated for only a month before they got married. Shocked both of their families, but they really meant what they felt for each other._

**To: Carly**

**From: Sam**

**txt: whoa there shay, i'm not talking marriage. it's love that i'm concerned with. i haven't exactly had the best role models for happiness, you know?**

_To: Sam_

_From: Carly_

_txt: __Yeah, I know. :( But all that matters is that you're happy with Elliot. You're happy with him, aren't you?_

**To: Carly**

**From: Sam**

**txt: yeah, i like him a lot & he's fun to be with. he told me he loved me & all i could do was stare. he just laughed it off & said that he'll wait until i'm ready. but i don't know if i will be.**

_To: Sam_

_From: Carly_

_txt: __Aww, Sam, I wish I was there to hug you! Just give yourself time to adjust, okay? If you find out that you do love him, then great! But if you don't, that's all right too. Just allow yourself some time to take it all in. You deserve that._

**To: Carly**

**From: Sam**

**txt: thanx doll. i needed to hear that. sorry i woke you up. tomorrow i'll give you a call. night carls. ily.**

_To: Sam_

_From: Carly_

_txt: __Anytime. Goodnight, Sam! Love you too!_

_

* * *

_

_March 29__th_

_To: techjunkie at icarly. com_

_From: invisibleninja at icarly. com_

_Fredward-_

_I normally wouldn't ask a nub like you for advice on this kind of stuff… but Elliot's birthday is coming up and need some help on what to get him. Boys are tricky to shop for._

_I've narrowed it down to a handful of different MP3 players, but I know that 'Nub Knows Best' when it comes to this sort of thing and that you've definitely got the latest scoop on what to buy._

_I don't mind getting him a cheap-ish one either because the birthday festivities will also be including sexytimes, and believe me, that is a perfect gift on its own._

_His birthday's in two weeks, so get crackin', nerd._

_-Sam_

_p.s. please and thank you ;)_

* * *

_April 30__th_

"**Hi, you've reached Carly! Sorry I can't get to the phone right now, but if you leave your name and number, I'll call you back as soon as I can! *beep!*"**

**

* * *

**

"**Hola! You've reached Freddie's cell! Leave a message and I'll get back to you soon! *beep!*"**

* * *

"**Hello, you've reached Melanie Puckett. I'm sorry I can't take your call right—"**

**

* * *

**

"Sam? Is that you?" Spencer's familiar voice reached her ears.

She gave a shaky exhale.

"Spence?"

"Sam? Are you okay? Is something wrong? You sound upset."

"I'm… okay. I'm okay, I'm just… I need to talk to Carly and s-she's not, she's not answering her phone. No one is answering their goddamn phone!" Her voice sounded more hysterical than he had heard in a long time, and Spencer felt panic flood this system.

"I'm pretty sure they're all taking their finals right now, Sam. Yeah, it's two o'clock now… she's not out until at least four. What's going on? Are you hurt? Are you in trouble?"

"No, I'm… I'm not hurt. It's just… I'm… Oh God. Elliot proposed to me." She managed before she promptly burst into tears.

Spencer was at a loss. Dealing with Carly crying in front of him was tricky enough—but having _Sam_ cry to him over the phone… over a _proposal?_ He had no idea how to handle this, and definitely no idea how to feel.

Sam. Elliot. _Proposal_.

"Did… did you say yes? Are you engaged?" He managed, once his shock lessened enough to allow his vocal cords to work.

"Y-yeah," she gave a watery sigh, "but that's not even… I haven't even said that I love him, Spence."

Spencer ran a hand through his hair and sat down on the sofa. This was a conversation that was best had sitting down.

"Well, do you love him?"

"I don't know. I've been with him for months and I don't even know if I love him… and now I'm engaged!"

"Sam…" he murmured, "if you're not even sure that you love him, why did you agree to marry him?"

The line went quiet, and if it wasn't for the barely audible sound of her sniffling, Spencer would've thought she had hung up on him.

"I-I only said yes because I think… I think that I'm pregnant."

He knew now that if he had been standing, he would've fallen over. If hearing about her engagement wasn't shock enough, this… a pregnancy? Sam had just turned twenty a week or so ago. And now…

"Spence? Spencer? Are you still there?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm here," he answered softly, still unable to believe her words.

"I mean, I like him well enough, I've been with him since November, b-but… if I am… and I just… I couldn't be a deadbeat parent, y-you know? Not when Mel and I had to deal with all that. So he asked me and I… I said yes. But he doesn't even know about… about the…"

"Are you sure that you're… I mean, that you're… did you take a test?"

"No, not yet. I've been too terrified to buy one. Because… oh Spence, what if it makes it real? What if it proves that I'm—"

"Sam," Spencer tried to soothe, "you've got to take a pregnancy test. You need to know, you deserve to know. I know you're scared, but you need to find out if it's true or not."

She gave another sigh, one that tugged painfully at his heartstrings.

"All right, I'll go get one. But can I… can I call when I'm waiting for the result? I mean, Carly's taking a final and I don't want to be alone w-when I find out…"

"Of course Sam," He assured her, "I'll pick up as soon as you call."

"Thanks Spencer." She murmured, trying once more to hold back tears.

The line went dead, and for the next forty minutes, Spencer sat in the loft, worrying himself sick. Still, he knew that his anxiety was a thousand times less than what she was feeling, but that fact didn't console him very much.

When she finally called again, his heart practically leapt into his throat.

"Spencer?" Came Sam's voice, timid and so unlike her.

"Did you take the test?"

There was heavy silence.

"Yeah… and it's, um… it's negative."

"So you're not pregnant?"

"No… I'm not."

More silence followed.

"Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not."

* * *

and that's the first chapter! it seems sorta weird at first, I know, but it'll get better. that much I can promise. hopefully Sam doesn't seem too out of character. one of the important themes in this story is that Sam is growing up and taking responsibility for things, so that's why she might seem a little more... polite than usual ;)

hopefully the story makes as much sense written down as it does in my head.

thanks for reading, and drop me a line to let me know what you think! questions, comments, anything! it means the world to me.

x

fandrastic

OH. also, since it clearly takes me forever and a day to update this... and you're interested in reading more Spam stories, I do have a series of 100 Spam drabbles called 'scream at the sky'. so... if you haven't already read that... well chop-chop! feel free to do so. ;)


	3. home is wherever I'm with you

readers, my loves! here's the latest installment! all the support I've received for this is simply mind-blowing, and I appreciate it more than you know. extra love goes out to BensonBaby, dragonflybeach, Seddielovergrl, GalnKay, 11konstantine11, IronishRose, Lucyole, and the ever-faithful lovelyMESS.

ALSO: if you want faster updates, the new chapter is always posted to my livejournal account first... and I have a sweet-ass banner. the link for that is on my profile page, or you can just seach for fandrastic. my username is the same as it is here.

anyway... thank you all. enjoy the latest chapter!

(lyrics lovingly borrowed from _Home by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros_ for the chapter title)

* * *

**Chapter Two**

* * *

**"_I never said I made good decisions!_"**

* * *

_May 17th_

The sculpture was _not_ coming together.

Running a hand through his too-long hair, Spencer gave the bits of metal and wood a dark glare before simply leaving them in a depressing pile on the floor. The pile was supposed to be a sculpture… which was supposed to be a commission piece—one he _really _should have been sticking to and working on—but he was pretty sure that Carly would be out of her Advanced English Lit class in a few minutes, and calling his sister seemed more productive, at any rate in his eyes.

Sure enough, when he checked his phone a moment later, there was a text message from the youngest Shay, promising him a phone call just as soon as she could get away from her droning professor. He smiled at the text; it was nice that even though Carly was so far away, the two of them were just as close as ever. He was pretty sure their strong bond came from the fact that he practically raised her… and the fact that he was awesome. At least he felt that was part of the reason.

Carly's freshman year at UC Berkeley was, according to his sister's excited telephone calls, going just as well as the university's brochures (_"Propaganda!" "Spencer!"_) said it would. She flourished at the university, and while perhaps her pale complexion wasn't always a big fan of the California climate, she certainly seemed to love it there. And from what she had relayed to him, Freddie was content at USC himself, though he missed Seattle more than he'd care to admit—and especially missed his own mother. It was a bit of a difficult transition; going from being smothered to having full independence in one year. But they were both enjoying their college years; with Freddie still debating on whether or not to stick with technical producing or to branch out into other forms of technological development and Carly with her heart set on the upcoming intern openings at the MP3TV Network.

As for Sam…

His phone rang, jarring him from his thoughts, though it was probably just as well.

"Brother!" Carly's excited voice reached his ears, and he couldn't help but smile.

"Sister! How goes your finals? Is your brain handling all that information? It better be, I did the math recently, and your Lit class actually costs you about 35 cents a minute."

"Really Spencer," Carly laughed, "why are you doing useless math? Are you putting off doing a commission again?"

"No…"

"Spencer."

"N—Yes. It's so difficult though, I'm totally blocked. I can't seem to find a common theme with all the different mediums, and the last time I tried working with both just wood and steel it came out _really_ cool, but that was just one I made for fun, but this is a commission so I _can't_ screw it up and I'd totally give the guy the old piece I made, but I already sold it and I'm pretty sure you're not listening anymore."

Carly laughed.

"Well, I was half-listening. Just try not to worry about it so much, okay? You're a great artist—you can do this." She assured him.

"Flattery will you get you nowhere, Carly Shay. So, what are you doing tonight?"

"Freddie's coming up from LA for the weekend, so we'll be hanging out. It'll be just like old times. Sort of. We're planning on video chatting with Sam. She hasn't been online for a few days, so we're all hoping to catch up with her."

Spencer took a bit of an awkward pause—he wondered if Carly and Freddie knew about Sam's engagement. And what about the pregnancy that almost was? Were they aware of that? He knew it wasn't his story to tell, but he couldn't help but remember all the other things Sam kept from Carly, just to ensure that his sister wouldn't worry.

"Spencer?" Carly questioned, shaking him from his reverie.

"Oh! Well that sounds like fun. Tell Freddie I said hey, will you? And Sam, of course. Oh, and I'm sure Mrs. Benson would just _love_ to hear that you and Freddie are spending more and more time together." He laughed.

Spencer could practically _hear_ Carly blush. His younger sister and Freddie had been 'sort-of dating' for the past several months, and Mrs. Benson was over at the loft quite often, asking if Carly had mentioned to him as to whether or not she and her son were finally together. It seemed that Mrs. Benson wanted Carly to be with Freddie just as much as Freddie did.

"I'm sure she'd practically have a coronary if she heard that." Carly quipped, and he chuckled.

"Oh hey, um, the two of you know, that if the, uh, time comes, that you should use—"

"Don't say it. _Please_ don't say it."

"Thank God," Spencer sighed, "I didn't even want to think about it. But as my duty as your older brother…"

"Spencer _please_, just… no more. The message has been received."

"Okay then."

"Good."

"So…" his eyes were drawn to a small collection of photographs on the bookshelf by his bedroom hallway, "what have you heard from…from Sam recently? I mean, I'm just curious…" He trailed off, unsure of what he was really trying to say.

"Nothing major, actually. I know she's been really busy with work lately, which works out because we've all been so busy with finals. But isn't that strange to think about? Sam… working? I mean, she had such a hard time keeping down that job at Chili-My-Bowl. I never thought she'd be cut out for the job force!"

Carly's laughter made him frown.

"Sam's a hard worker, when she has a passion for something," He defended, "and if she's happy where she is, isn't that all that matters?"

"Of course! I'm glad she's happy."

Spencer frowned again and drew back the hand that reached up to pull closer a photograph of his sister and her two best friends. There was so much that Carly didn't know, about the steady jobs that Sam _did_ hold down during the summer, about all the other responsibilities that she had taken on during her teen years. It was something he understood completely, what with his mother passing away and his father always away on some military tour—Spencer was also forced to grow up quickly to ensure that Carly's life was as idyllic as possible. It made sense that Sam was trying to protect Carly as well, in her own, secretive way.

"Me too." He agreed, though from his last conversation with Sam, he wasn't sure if she was happy at all.

"Yeah, I mean, I got a text message from her about a week ago, but she just asked how classes were going. She didn't say much else after I texted her back. I'm sure she's fine, but I miss talking with her like I used to."

"Sam… Sam has a lot that she needs to work out, and that's probably why she's been distant recently, I think."

"Yeah," Carly agreed softly, "I know. I just wish that she'd stay in touch better, you know? I mean, when she left so suddenly… we were stunned. I understand now why she left, honestly I do… but I just wish things were different. I want her to be happy. I just wish she'd come home."

"Me too, kiddo."

"But at least we'll be video chatting with her tonight! I've been looking forward to this all week!"

"Maybe you guys can do something for your site, tonight."

"Ooh, that sounds like a good idea! Well, Freddie should be arriving at the apartment in about an hour, so I better get back. I'll e-mail you later, okay?" Carly promised, quickly switching gears.

"Sure thing. Have fun with Freddie. But not too much—"

"Spencer!"

"Sorry! I'll talk to you later, kiddo."

"Yeah yeah, bye Spencer!"

The line soon went dead and Spencer tucked his phone back into the pocket of his jeans. Out of the corner of his eye, the pile of sculpting materials seemed a little less threatening than before. His mind was busy from his conversation with Carly, and it helped him not to over think his approach to the commission piece. Slowly, the sculpture began to take shape, although his mind was more on his sister's words than on the materials in his hands.

Discussions about Sam always made him feel guilty. It shamed him to no end that he wasn't able to help her like he promised he would, that he wasn't able to reach her. He should've been a better guardian to Carly by paying closer attention to her best friends. How could he not know that Sam was dealing with all of that… disaster at home? Even a year after she left Seattle, the remorse ate away at him.

Sam was a good kid. Sure, she had an eye for violence and petty theft, but she was brave and clever and had a way with words. He just felt so… awful that he couldn't do anything to aid her. While they had all eventually learned why she left, he couldn't help but wonder about all the other horrible things she had to deal with growing up. Could anyone really blame her for wanting to escape, to start fresh on her own? It was an impulsive, impetuous thing that she did—just one day driving away… if he had known her plan, would he have tried to stop her, tried to convince her to stay in Seattle? Or would he, the proverbial free-spirit, encourage her to wander around and find whatever it was that she needed to find?

It was questions like these that distracted him far too often, and when he focused his eyes on the strip of metal in his hands, he realized that it was twisted into a long spiral curl, not unlike Sam's characteristic golden ringlets. Briefly, Spencer debated scrapping the piece, but it looked pretty damn awesome, and he was suddenly bursting with ideas to complete the commission piece.

* * *

With the commission piece finally finished, Spencer celebrated by ordering Chinese food and calling Socko. It was boring, living alone, and he was currently single, so eating takeout and phoning his best friend seemed like his best bet to liven up the dull evening. He was just about to call Socko when there was a knock at the door. He called out an _'It's open!'_, assuming logically that the delivery guy from B. F. Wangs had arrived. When instead the knock sounded again, Spencer furrowed his brow and rose from his spot on the sofa and opened the door. The delivery man stood there, looking a bit hesitant as he held out a bag of food, for which Spencer quickly paid for. Closing the door behind him shortly after, Spencer shook his head and plopped the food onto the coffee table. Chopsticks in hand, he was just about to dig into his carton of chicken with snow peas, there was another knock at the door.

Rising once more from the sofa, Spencer opened the front door and his eyes widened in surprise. The carton of food fell from his hands, landing on the floor with a dull noise, the chopsticks barely staying in his slackened grip.

"Sam?"

"You know, you dropped your chicken, Spence."

"Sam?" He asked again, "is it really…? What are you doing here?"

It was Sam, but it wasn't his sister's skinny little best friend that stood in front of him. Her hair was still done in its signature curls, though it was even longer than it was when she was in high school. She was still as short as ever—though to be fair, everyone was short when compared to him, but she looked so much older, so much more grown up. Gone were the crazy mismatched layers of clothes, instead she wore a simple pair of jeans, her converse, and a white tank underneath a loose cardigan. She looked tired, exhausted, really, and a glance at the watch on her wrist still showed that she was on Central time as opposed to Pacific. Did she just get back from Chicago?

"I'm back in Seattle for good, I think." She said, looking up to meet his eyes.

"You're staying? Are you seriously staying?" He asked quickly.

Spencer was pretty sure he looked utterly ridiculous, standing in the doorway with Chinese food ruining the welcome mat, chopsticks still in hand. He stepped backwards to usher her into the loft, but Sam stood still in the doorway.

"Yeah, I'm serious. I'm looking for apartments in the morning."

He also noticed that the fourth finger on her left hand was bare.

He stared at her.

"Sam…" He could barely say the words, his throat was quickly tightening.

At the sound of his strained voice, he saw the tension leave her shoulders as she slumped tiredly, and he saw tears shining in her eyes before she ducked her head. This time, he didn't hesitate to pull her into his arms, and she didn't fight him.

"I'm so glad you're back." He sighed into her hair.

She felt awfully thin in his arms, and worriedly he wondered if she was eating enough. Her forehead was rested against the center of his chest, and he felt her tears seep through his shirt. Hastily, she pulled away and swiped at her eyes with the back of her wrist.

"I… I couldn't stay. Everything was going too fast; with Elliot and the proposal and the… scare… I wimped out. Chicago stopped being my escape. And it's ridiculous because this just proves again that all I know how to do is run away from my problems." She whispered, tucking her hair behind her ears in a nervous gesture he was unused to.

"No Sam," he murmured, "you don't ever have to stay where you're unhappy."

"It's just… it's almost a real shame that I had to leave—I really liked my job."

She gave a soft laugh, which helped lighten the mood.

"Oh Sam, I get it, I do," Spencer assured her, slipping an arm around her shoulder to lead her into the loft, "I'm just so glad you're back."

She complied and let him lead her inside. Once the door was closed, he bent to pick up the spilled carton of food. He heard her give a soft laugh.

"I had a feeling it was you who ordered the Chinese food. I rode up in the elevator with the delivery guy. I told him I'd give him five dollars if he'd give me one of the egg rolls in the bag," She reached into her pocket, "and instead he gave me two."

Despite the previously emotional few minutes, a genuine laugh lit up his face.

"Maybe that was why he was acting so weird when he showed up. I paid for those, you know." He chided.

"Yeah, and so did I." She countered, taking a bite of the egg roll.

Spencer threw the carton of spilled food away and watched Sam seat herself in the black armchair. Shaking his head gently, he joined her by the sofa.

"Some things never change."

"Some things never _should_ change."

Perhaps her words weren't intended to be serious in nature, but they made him stop and consider them for a moment. But quickly he shook himself out of his reverie, and picking up another carton of food, he lifted his chopsticks to eat.

"You know, you can ask me. You can ask me exactly where I was, and exactly what I was doing. It's okay. I'm not some wreck of a person who needs to keep so many secrets. I'm an adult now, finally, _and_… an organ donor actually—check my license. I'm a fully-functioning member of society, believe it or not."

Her words were as cocky and assured as always, but were much less sharp, and her smile was genuine. It seemed that even though she had arrived on less than pleasant terms, her Midwestern sabbatical had mellowed out some of her cynical, excitable energy.

Suddenly eating seemed much less important than the invitation to finally ask the questions that had been plaguing him for months. Spencer wiped his palms on his jeans and gave her a serious look.

"Are you still engaged?"

She gave a smile—which surprised him.

"No, not anymore. I'm sure it's probably poor taste to be smiling about that, but I just... you know the reason why I said yes. And when I found out that I wasn't pregnant, I was so confused. I mean, I was relieved, and grateful that I wasn't responsible for ruining the life of my potential offspring, but I was also miserable. Because there was a moment there, when I was waiting for the results, that I thought about what I would've done if it was positive, and I knew that it was something I could've handled. I hadn't exactly warmed to the idea of being a wife, let alone being a mother, but then it didn't seem so bad, so I figured that I could do this, you know? I could be the mother that my mom never was for me. And in the end, I didn't have to worry about it, but I was still a mess. I mean, it's not like I miscarried. I guess it's selfish of me to feel bad about something that never was, but I was depressed."

"Sam…"

"I probably would've named her Olive," She chuckled softly, "like the food, of course. Or Oliver if he was a boy. But anyway, when I found out that I wasn't pregnant, I felt almost empowered. I told Elliot that things were going too fast and that I wasn't ready to marry him. He got so angry when I gave him back his ring. I'd never seen him so furious. But it was the only time I had ever seen him… passionate about something, you know? It sort of reinforced the fact that I had to leave. I couldn't live with someone who didn't get excited about things; I couldn't ever love someone like that. But Elliot really loved me, I think. And I liked him a lot, but he wasn't what I wanted. And Chicago wasn't Seattle."

He sort of just stared at her for a moment, his hand rubbing his mouth as her words sunk in. Sam tossed the egg roll wrapper onto the coffee table.

"So you're done with Elliot? And with Chicago?"

"Yeah, you know, I think I've been a rambling man for long enough. I realized that when I was out there, that there were all these instances where all I wanted to do was talk to Carly for advice, or pick on Freddie, and I couldn't because I had put two thousand miles between us. Of course, leaving was important, part of my growing up or whatever, but I think coming back was important too."

The smile returned to her mouth.

"Do Carly and Freddie know about the engagement, or even that you're in Seattle?"

"Nah, I mean, I was definitely going to tell them if I was knocked up. But since I knew the engagement wasn't going to last long I didn't tell them. Plus, this is their finals week. I'll tell them when they're done. It'll give them something to freak out over. Keep the blood pumping or whatever."

He laughed at that, watching the smile grow wider on her face. Sure, he had missed her, but it wasn't until she was here, back in the loft and stealing his food that he realized exactly how much he had missed her.

"Wow… this is all…"

"Mature, right?" Sam laughed jovially, "I know, I really grew up this year, which is good. You know, I turned 20 in April. I felt like I was finally an adult, finally getting somewhere and being someone. Not that I had a great career or apartment or anything, but I was living my life and I didn't need to rely on anybody else. And then Elliot proposed and it was okay to need somebody else, it wasn't as big of a deal as I thought it would be. But then with the pregnancy scare… I realized that I was doing the right things for all the wrong reasons."

"So you came back." He supplied softly for her, searching her eyes for a clue as to what was going on in her head.

"Yeah, I saved up enough to drive back here and to find a new place of my own. I figure Seattle is the place that I've been happiest, even if my mother's home wasn't exactly that place."

The small smile she managed was genuine, and Spencer found himself once again marveling at the person in front of him.

"You should move in." He blurted.

The laughter that followed helped her wipe away the few stray tears that had clung to her lashes.

"Here with you?"

"Why not? There's room, plenty of room, actually, and it's a safe neighborhood, plus it's close to all your old haunts, like Galini's… and Groovy Smoothie."

"Spence…"

He continued on.

"If you want, I could charge you rent—I mean I don't want you to feel like you're mooching or anything. Not that you would feel that way, but I do know that you like your independence."

"Spencer—"

"Please Sam," he pleaded, "I couldn't help you when you were a kid, and I couldn't help you when you were out in Chicago… please, let me help you now."

She was frowning, her brows furrowed and her lip caught between her teeth. His offers of assistance were going against her grain, and while she really did want to take him up on this, she wasn't sure if she should.

"Spencer, what happened to me, when I was younger wasn't your fault, okay? You can't blame yourself for that. And I'm… well, I'm doing a lot better. I'm alive, and I'm relatively happy, so overall, that's pretty good. So stop beating yourself up over the fact that I had a crappy home life, okay?"

"Only if you move in." He countered, his voice just as firm and assured as hers was just now.

Sam pursed her lips and was silent for a moment.

"Fine. I'll do it."

A huge smile broke out over his face.

"But," she continued, rolling her eyes at his reaction, "it's not a permanent thing. I'll stay here as long as I need, per your wishes, but eventually, I'll be finding a place of my own. Deal?"

He grinned once more.

"Deal."

His enthusiasm made her smile as well, and although the heaviness of her previous truths still hung in the air, it was clear to the both of them that things were finally looking up.

* * *

_To: Sam  
From: Carly_

_txt: Are you out of work yet?_

**To: Carly  
From: Sam**

**txt: lol yep**

_To: Sam  
From: Carly_

_txt: Good! Video chat with me and Freddie?_

**To: Carly  
From: Sam  
**

**txt: right now?**

_To: Sam  
From: Carly  
_

_txt: Pretty please?_

**To: Carly  
From: Sam  
**

**txt: sure thing dollface. gimme a few minutes :)**

_To: Sam  
From: Carly  
_

_txt: YAY!_

* * *

Sam chuckled, tucking her cell phone into the front pocket of her jeans. From his spot on the couch, Spencer gave her a curious look.

"Carly wants me to get online and video chat with her and Fredweird."

He grinned.

"Ah, yeah, she was talking to me about that earlier. I guess Freddie's heading over to her place for a while. You know, the two of them are—"

"Oh I know. The two of them have an awkward, budding romance. I bet Crazy," She pointed towards the door, "across the hallway there, is beside herself, picking out wedding invitations and table settings."

The two of them laughed at the very thought, and Sam rose to log onto the computer on the snack bar. Hesitantly, Spencer followed her.

"You know, they're going to recognize the loft when you turn on the web cam."

She turned around and gave him a grin.

"And that's the beauty of surprises, Spence. Now go stand on the other side of the snack bar. I don't want you to be seen yet. Let's see how long it takes for them to realize that I'm here in the loft."

Quickly he moved to the other side, watching her face light up when she typed in her username and password. A moment later, the chiming sound of Carly logging in reached their ears, quickly followed by his sister's excited squeal when she saw Sam's face.

"Finally!" Carly cried, "It's been forever since I've seen your face!"

"Yeah, yeah, Shay. It's been a week. Sup, Fredamame."

"Hey Sam," Freddie rolled his eyes, but his smile betrayed him, "how are things?"

"Mildly splendiferous. Been busy with the usual; you know, winning the Powerball, vanquishing demons, that sort of thing."

Spencer had to hold back his laughter, and Sam raised her gaze for a moment to give him a grin.

"What are you looking at?" Carly asked suddenly.

"Why… my autographed poster of the world's fattest priest, of course."

Spencer mock-glared at her.

"Wait a minute…" Freddie began, his eyes searching the screen, "you're at Bushwell! You're at Carly and Spencer's!"

Carly gave another high pitched squeal and Spencer took this as his cue to make himself known to Freddie and his sister. Sam was too busy laughing to formulate a reply.

"Oh my god, Sam! You're back home! When did you get into Seattle?" Carly asked finally, beaming up at her best friend and her brother.

"Like, an hour ago, tops."

"Really?" Freddie asked, incredulous, "Well, how long are you visiting for?"

Sam gave Spencer a quick look, and was reassured by his nod.

"Actually, I'm not visiting. The prodigal son, er… daughter has returned. And I brought gifts!"

"Really?" Spencer asked from her side.

"No. My very presence should be _more_ than enough."

They all laughed once more, until the question that was on Carly and Freddie's lips finally made itself known.

"Sam, are you all right? Why are you back now?" Freddie questioned, his brows drawing together in that familiarly serious manner.

Carly sobered at this as well, and Sam managed a quick smile to reassure them both.

"This story's a little bit heavy, kids. You sure you want to hear this?"

The two of them nodded, and Spencer rose from the barstool next to Sam to grab them some water bottles.

"All right. Well, a few weeks ago, Elliot proposed to me."

Freddie's eyes widened to what looked like a painful degree, and Carly gasped loudly.

"Oh my _God_, Sam—"

Sam quickly held up her left hand, proof that there was no engagement ring to flaunt. Spencer returned with their water, and Sam took a quick sip out of the bottle.

"And you said no?" Freddie questioned.

"No, I said yes," Sam corrected, almost chuckling at their confused looks, "but I only said yes because I thought I was pregnant."

"Oh my _God_, Sam!" Freddie cried, echoing Carly's earlier sentiment. However, the younger Shay's eyes were as round as saucers, as she gaped at Sam.

"I… I had no idea that you and Elliot were… _intimate_." She whispered.

Spencer promptly spit out a mouthful of water, making Sam recoil from the spray.

"I knew." Freddie muttered.

As Spencer left to clean up the mess he had made, Sam continued her story.

"Well, we were. But like I said, I only said yes to his proposal because I thought I was pregnant. You know, I didn't want to end up like my deadbeat mom. I figured that I could tough out the next eighteen years, and either end up in love with Elliot, or just divorce him."

"Wait," Carly said slowly, "you weren't even in love with him?"

Sam shook her head.

"I thought that I could have been, maybe one day, but no, I wasn't. And when I found out that I wasn't pregnant, that it was just a false alarm… I ended things with him. And now I'm here, back in Seattle for good."

Carly seemed to take longer for the words to sink in, while Freddie merely looked thoughtful for a moment before speaking up.

"So… so you're okay now, though?"

"Oh yeah, I'm doing a _lot_ better now. I'll be staying here with Spence until I can find a place of my own—his idea, not mine. When are you guys coming back?"

The two of them hesitated.

"Actually, I'm taking a few summer classes, so I won't be back until closer to the end of June. And Carly's got a few volunteering things that won't be finished until the beginning of the month." Freddie admitted

"Lame," Sam sighed, "guess it's me and you for a while, Spence." She teased with a smile.

Carly and Freddie's excited words drew her back into the conversation, while Spencer looked on with a small smile.

Things were undoubtedly different, that much was obviously evident, but some semblance of normalcy was slowly returning. Sam was back. And although her time away had changed her, she was still the same smart-mouthed spitfire that had hung around Bushwell in her youth.

But then she turned for a moment and gave him a tired smile before turning back to the computer screen, and it began to really sink in that she was no longer the little girl he once knew. Though, he wondered absently, that might not be a bad thing after all.

* * *

and there's chapter three!

sorry it took me so long to update, hopefully the wait was worth it. :)

let me know what you liked and what you didn't!

x

fandrastic


	4. even if it leads nowhere

shalom, readers! here's the latest chapter of _love at second sight_! out of all of my stories, this one means the most to me, so I do hope you're enjoying it.

lots of love to my dedicated reviewers, who inspire me to provide the best work I can. love to Limzee, Catherine, Seddielovergrl, pinkpanda101, Show Me The Skyline, lovelyMESS, nomanslandvicki, and Broken Wings Don't Fly. thank you all from the bottom of my heart.

enjoy the latest chapter!

(chapter title lyrics are lovingly borrowed from _Chasing Pavements _by ADELE)

x

* * *

**Chapter Three**

**

* * *

**

"_**She's a clever one…"**_

_**

* * *

**_

In his rush to play the hero, Spencer failed to take into account the fact that having Sam move into the loft with him would be, to put it lightly, super weird.

As much as she had frequented the loft in her youth, Sam had never _really_ moved in, although quite a surprising amount of her laundry resided there. And sure, Spencer had woken up in the dark countless times in a fit of nighttime inspiration, only to head out to the living room to find her conked out on his couch, a bowl of popcorn half-overturned in her lap. So he was used to seeing her there in the loft at all hours, even if she wasn't a member of the household.

But now, they'd be sharing a mailing address (_definitely_) and chores (_he hoped_) and possibly the responsibility of a goldfish (_Carly would never have to know_) and it would be weird. Because Sam was Carly's best friend and he was Carly's older brother, and that was just a strange combination. Wasn't it?

Would she have strange habits, like clipping coupons for things she didn't need, or hoarding all her loose change in an old jar, only to never spend it? Would she be like those people who demanded that you take your shoes off when you entered their house? He failed to take any of this into consideration when he asked, no, _demanded_ that she move in. Spencer was old. Well, not really, but he was certainly set in his ways and like the proverbial bachelor he was, preferred to have things a specific way.

"Dude, you look like you're passing a kidney stone. Is that box too heavy for you or something? It's only clothing in there." Sam piped up charmingly from his side as they rode the elevator to his floor.

Their floor. _Oh God_.

"No no," he insisted, schooling his features, "I was just, well… you don't, I don't know…"

"Know what?"

Spencer panicked.

"Paper hand towels! Are you, uh, one of those people who insists on using those, you know, paper hand towels? Because I mean, we could get some if you really wanted them. If that's what you're used to, uh, not that you would be! I'm just, I, well, I think they're a little wasteful, but I guess we could—"

"Spencer!" She laughed as the elevator dinged open, "what on earth are you going on and on about? Do I look like the type of person who cares what type of hand towels you buy? Sheesh!"

He placed the box of her clothes just inside of the old studio and gave her a sheepish smile and a shrug.

"Not really. It's just, you know, we're _roomies_ now." He whispered.

She rolled her eyes and tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder.

"Yeah, so?"

"Well, are you sure this isn't weird? Because it feels—"

He was interrupted when he felt her land a solid punch on his arm.

"It's only weird because you're making it weird, you doofus!"

"Sorry! I just don't want you to feel uncomfortable. This is definitely a big change—for both of us." Spencer tried to backpedal, frowning at the pain in his arm.

"Oh, big deal," she waved off his concerns, "it's not like I'm the health inspector… or your in-laws or something. Relax, it's just me. Besides, I've been on my own for a year and well, pretty much most of my childhood, actually. I don't need you to play guardian for me, okay? So cool your jets, handsome. Mama knows how to take care of herself."

She rolled her suitcase farther into the old iCarly studio, and returned a moment later to carry the box in. When she turned to look at Spencer, she saw him punching in the digits for the elevator to head back to the main lobby.

"Uh, where are you going?"

He looked confused.

"Don't you have more stuff in your car for us to bring up?"

Sam chuckled, and gestured to the things they had already brought in.

"Nope. This nomad travels light."

"Seriously?"

"Well, my purse is downstairs… does that count? Oh, I have my laptop case as well."

"Don't you need, I don't know, more _stuff_? Girls always seem to have a lot of stuff."

"Wow, you're making a _great_ impression as a roommate, Spence." Sam quipped sardonically.

"Sorry."

"I _will_ have to buy a bed," She mused quietly, "actually, bedroom furniture. And of course there are all those other essentials that I can just pick up at the drugstore later, shampoo and whatnot… hmm, what else?" Sam tapped a finger against her chin as she muttered.

"Why don't you just stay in Carly's room?" He suggested, interrupting her thoughts.

"Because she's coming back in a few weeks and I think she'd like to sleep in her own bed. In her own room. The studio will be fine for me." She chuckled.

Spencer looked conflicted.

"I hate to even ask this Sam, but can you even afford all this? The new bed, and the furniture…"

His awkward concern was rewarded with a genuine smile.

"Yep, not to worry. It'll be cheap stuff, I know my way around a yard sale, but I can handle that. Plus, I don't have to rush out and buy stuff just yet, too. I can stay in Carly's room until she gets back, and hopefully save up more money in the meantime. Ugh, that means I have to look for work…"

"Did you need me to lend you some cash?"

Sam frowned, but there was no malice behind it.

"No way, the roof over my head is enough charity from you, Mr. Shay. I need to get a job anyway. I find that I happen to enjoy having a steady income."

He laughed at that.

"That's definitely something I wouldn't know about." Spencer grinned, "Which reminds me… I have a new piece downstairs that's almost done. Did you want to come with me tomorrow morning when I deliver it?"

Her eyes lit up.

"Will there be food?"

"Possibly… well, yeah probably."

She smiled widely, and he found himself smiling too.

"Sweet. I'm there."

He nodded in assent and moved to exit the studio, when he remembered something. Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, he pulled out a small silver object.

"Oh hey, here, I had this made for you. I figured it would be cheaper to let you have your own key than to replace the locks every time you entered."

Sam took the offered key and laughed.

"Aw, c'mon, I haven't picked a lock in years!"

He merely gave her a look.

"Okay, probably more like months. But I had a good reason! Well no, I really didn't."

Spencer laughed once more and shook his head amusedly, leaving Sam in the studio to sort through and unpack her things.

He knew that things were going to be different now that she was living with him, but the guilt he felt over failing her when she was growing up was slowly dissipating. In his earlier panic, Spencer had seemingly forgotten that it was _Sam_ that was moving in, not some stranger. He knew Sam. Even a year away in Chicago hadn't changed her into a stranger. This was something he could handle. And having her around would help fill the emptiness that plagued the loft since his sister's departure for college. After mulling things over for a bit, Spencer realized exactly how lucky he was to have someone he actually liked being around as a roommate. He could've done a lot worse.

* * *

The next morning, Spencer was surprised to see Sam awake and dressed so early—and looking cheerful, no less. She was sitting cross-legged on top of the kitchen island, a piece of toast between her teeth as she twisted a curling iron around a fat, blonde ringlet. She flashed him a peace sign in greeting with her free hand, before taking another large bite of her toast.

Still sleepy, Spencer rubbed at his eyes as he padded over to where she sat.

"I didn't know you curled your hair." His voice was scratchy and low.

"Yep," Sam nodded, releasing the iron to let the curl bounce free, "sadly, hair this awesome does not occur in nature. It's normally wavy-ish, but it looks better in curls."

"Shouldn't you be doing that in front of a mirror?"

Sam swallowed her mouthful and shook her head.

"Oh please, Spence. I grew up on the pageant circuit, remember? I could curl my hair in my sleep," She looked thoughtfully at the curling iron, "Actually, there's a warning against that on the cord's tag, so sleep-styling is unfortunately out of the question. Which is a shame; it'd totally save me time."

Tiredly, he sat down at the kitchen table, turning his chair to face her. He pondered his words for a moment.

"You know, I never congratulated you on that."

"On what?" She asked distractedly, unraveling another curl from the iron.

"You know, that whole 'winning the pageant thing' a few years back. Carly showed me the video on SplashFace once. You were really good. I didn't know you could dance. Well, other than 'Random Dancing', of course."

She waved off his words, but even her trademark bravado couldn't hide her surprise.

"Oh, well thanks, I guess. It wasn't a big deal; it was just some lame pageant. Plus, I chucked the crown like a week later. Frothy chewed most of it up. He always did love rhinestones."

There were a few moments of comfortable silence as Spencer made himself something to eat for breakfast. From his lethargic movements, Sam was reminded that he certainly wasn't a morning person. Plus, the fact that he was still in his pajamas certainly gave him away.

"Hey," he mumbled as he sat back down again, "why are you up so early? It's barely eight o'clock."

Sam shrugged and coiled another curl around the iron.

"Habit, mostly. I had to wake up early when I worked at that coffee shop. They had me coming in early to help make the baked goods for the day."

Something in Spencer's mind clicked as he aimlessly stirred at his cereal.

"Right! I forgot you were good at baking, at least from what I hear. You know, the sculpture that I'm dropping off later is for a new bakery opening a few blocks away. Maybe they're hiring! You can ask when you come with me later."

Sam smiled and stuffed the last of her toast into her mouth.

"You genius man, you. I'll have to look into it. And… if I'm looking for a job, then I probably _should_ be curling my hair in front of a mirror." Sam mused sardonically.

"No, it looks nice."

Again, she hid her surprise quite poorly. It was clear that she wasn't used to honest compliments.

"Thanks. Say, when were you planning on heading over?"

"Not until eleven. It'll give me enough time to finish packing the sculpture up before we leave. It'll be in several pieces—easier for transport. I'll have to assemble it there."

There was another silence between them—the type of silence that Spencer feared would be awkward—but instead felt completely comfortable. He watched in muted fascination as Sam finished curling the last section of heavy golden hair. With all the changes happening around them, it was encouraging to think that some things about Sam hadn't changed at all.

His internal musings were interrupted by the sound of her violently yanking the iron's electrical cord out of the wall as she hopped down off of her spot on the kitchen island. Sam shook out her hair wildly, until the painfully perfect spirals turned into her signature tousles.

As he quietly ate his cereal, Spencer watched Sam reacquaint herself with the kitchen. She hesitated briefly by the sink, before pulling the coffee canister out of the upper cabinet and a small jar out of the spice rack. She did a double take at what she saw.

"You should be embarrassed at this." She scolded teasingly, gesturing to the virtually empty spice rack.

Spooning in another mouthful of cereal, Spencer waved her off.

"My rack is flawless." He countered. Although tired, he was perfectly aware of the sentences' out of context declaration.

Failing to bite back her wide smile, Sam laughed and busied herself with making coffee. Spencer noticed that she made it the same way he did, and wondered to himself if she learned how to make coffee from him during all those early mornings she broke into the loft. However, he noted that she added in a few sprinkles of ground cinnamon, which was something she must've picked up on her own.

"Don't knock it 'til you try it." She spoke up, indicating to the concentrated look on his face.

"Oh no, I was just thinking. Besides, you know I'll try practically anything… for better or for worse."

Sam laughed again; the bright and sunny sound struck a chord with him, of days that seemed far too long ago, and it reminded him of exactly how much he had missed it, missed her. Carly could have done _a lot_ worse for a best friend.

* * *

He finished his breakfast and moved to wash the dishes as the coffee began filling the pot. Sam was occupied with taking note of the contents of various cabinets and cupboards, jotting down what appeared to be a grocery list. Without even looking up from the slip of paper in her hands, she answered his unspoken question.

"I need baking supplies. Plus, if I'm aiming to find a job at that bakery, I've got to get back into practice anyway."

Spencer nodded as he dried his hands, moving around her to pour himself some of the cinnamon laced coffee. Taking a modest sip, he smiled.

"Well, if you bake as well as you make coffee, then they'll have to hire you." He complimented, watching her beam.

"Ha! Yeah right. I'll be sure to tell that to all of my future employers," Sam joked, pouring a generous helping of the liquid into a travel mug, "All right, I'm going to head over to the store to pick up a few things, but I'll be back before eleven to go with you to drop off the sculpture."

Spencer nodded from behind his coffee mug.

"You have your key?"

Sam dangled the apartment key from her finger for him to see.

"Yep! Now back to work with you," she smiled as she reached the front door, "go be brilliant!"

The door closed behind her and Spencer was once again alone in the apartment. Coffee cup in hand, he wandered over to where his sculpture was standing, still partially unfinished. When he crossed in front of it earlier, he felt mildly unimpressed with it, even in his half-awake state. But now, he was suddenly bursting with inspiration, though its source was unknown. This time around, instead of disinterest, all he felt was the excitement from the prospect of creating something new. Fluidly he worked, the look of determination never leaving his features.

* * *

Sam returned a little under an hour later, her arms laden with bags. From his spot next to his sculpture, Spencer looked up and hurried over to the door to help her carry everything inside. Once the bags were safely deposited in the kitchen, Sam dutifully began putting things away, sorting through various bags of sugar, flour, and a myriad of spices that Spencer hadn't even heard of. He picked one up curiously.

"Carda-what?"

"Cardamom. It's for vanilla spice bread. It's pretty much the most magical tasting bread in the world."

"You can make bread?"

"I can make lots of things. And if there's one thing I love, it's carbs." She grinned.

There were also a small collection of delicate vials filled with different extracts, and a few undersized containers of different powders. Spencer tried to catch a glimpse of the price tag on one of the vials, but Sam whisked it away before he could see. It was apparent that she had spent a small fortune on supplies, but she looked so honestly excited with it all that he didn't have the heart to admonish her. She tucked the things away quickly, seeing as she did practically have the cabinet contents memorized, and Spencer returned to put the finishing touches on his sculpture.

* * *

Eleven o'clock arrived faster than anticipated, and both Sam and Spencer were surprised when the alarm on his cell phone started going off. While he had been busy packing the pieces of his sculpture away into boxes, Sam had been in the kitchen, meticulously creating something, though Spencer wasn't sure what. Whatever it was though, the scent of it backing was altogether delicious.

After he shut off his phone's alarm and finished stacking the filled boxes onto the sofa cushions, he watched as Sam pulled two cake pans out of the turquoise enamel oven. He wasn't even aware that he owned cake pans. Entranced by the scent of baked goods permeating the apartment, Spencer made a beeline to where she stood.

"Soooo," He drawled, "What are you doing?"

He was discouraged when Sam made no motions to remove the cake from the pans.

"I'm letting this cool. And before you ask, no this cake is not for us, it'll be part of my baking 'portfolio', so to speak, if I'm asked to do an interview."

Spencer pouted.

"You can't just tease me with cake and then not deliver!" He protested.

Sam laughed and stood between him and the kitchen island, as if protecting the cake.

"Maybe if you're a good little artist, I'll make you something later."

"Best roommate ever!" He cheered, "Now come on, you, we've got places to go and people to see!"

* * *

By the time they arrived at the bakery, there was a decent crowd of people inside, milling about as they waited for their orders or seating themselves in the colorfully painted chairs lining the walls. The owner of the place must've recognized Spencer quickly, because she waved them over to a large bay window just as soon as they walked in. A moment later, Spencer left her to keep an eye on the boxes while he and the owner, a woman in her mid-thirties named Jan, had a quiet discussion towards the back of the building. While they spoke, Sam scoped out the place.

It was cute, for lack of a better term. It almost appeared that more time went into the décor and the styling of the place than went into the baking. The food presented behind the glass counters looked good enough, but nothing really caught her eye. Still, the place seemed quite popular, so that was a good sign.

Spencer returned a few moments later and the two of them began unpacking the boxes that contained the pieces of his sculpture. It was a similar design to one that he had made before; a man built entirely out of spatulas, but this time around the shape was that of a pastry chef, made from all sorts of kitchen supplies, from whisks to egg beaters.

As they worked to assemble the sculpture, a woman entered the shop, carrying a white box, and jostled Sam's arm as she hurried past. Sam almost dropped part of the sculpture, but caught the piece in time and turned to glare daggers at the woman's back. The woman bustled up to the front of the line, placed her box on the countertop and looked Jan confidently in the eye.

"I don't know if you're hiring at the moment," She began, lifting the lid of the box to present a delicately made cake, "but if you just try a piece of this citrus chiffon—"

"Nope, sorry, no can do. We don't have any reason to hire on more staff. I'm sorry, but you're just going to have to find another place." Jan's voice was firm, leaving no room for further discussion.

Sam tuned out the rest of the conversation, feeling her own confidence fizzle away—so much for getting excited about the prospect of working again. Spencer must've heard the conversation and seen the look on her face, because he gave her arm a comforting squeeze.

"Hey," He said softly from his side of the half assembled sculpture, "chin up, Puckett. You'll find someplace eventually."

She cracked a smile to ease away the worry lines in his forehead, but couldn't help but wonder if she'd suffered enough bad luck already.

* * *

When they got back to the loft, Sam eyed the unfrosted cake on the countertop and laughed to herself.

"Well Spence, it looks like we'll be having this cake after all!"

He gave an enthusiastic fist pump and followed her into the kitchen. Confusion reached his eyes when he saw her pulling out more ingredients, and then looked completely baffled.

"Wait, you can _make_ frosting?"

"I told you, I can make a lot of things."

His obvious interest helped considerably in raising her spirits, and she found the time passed quickly as they joked and laughed together.

"Can I lick the frosting knife-thing when you're done?" He asked with a grin on his face.

Sam rolled her eyes and handed it over, but not before swiping a finger across a large glob of frosting to steal some for herself. She smiled at the taste.

"Mmm, Mama's still got it."

Spencer made a sound of agreement.

"I'll say! Can we eat the cake now?"

"No, we're going to save it for later. You have to _earn _the cake."

He pouted once more.

"Worst roommate ever!" He whined, before a devious look crossed his features.

Sam merely punched his arm at the insult, and then distracted herself with covering up the cake platter with its cover.

Surreptitiously, Spencer ran a hand along the inside of the frosting bowl before swiping the sugary substance across Sam's cheek. Immediately her head snapped up, her eyes wide in realization. They soon narrowed in retaliation as she wiped the frosting off of her cheek and rubbed it onto his face and hair. This back and forth battle continued for several minutes, until they were both smeared from head to toe in vanilla-almond frosting.

Sam gave him a serious look.

"You my friend… have earned the cake."

With a flourish, she lifted off the cover to the cake platter and grabbed a knife to cut him the smallest sliver of cake known to mankind. They were both hopelessly messy, and so she skipped a plate and simply dropped the helping into Spencer's waiting palms.

"You're cruel," he shook his head, gesturing to the miniscule portion, "but it's totally worth it."

She laughed, and eyed both of their sloppy appearances.

"Well, I guess we're off to a good start."

"Definitely."

Sam quirked a smile.

"Right, well you savor that cake there. I'm going to shower off this icing. You might want to do the same eventually." She joked as she left the kitchen to head up to Carly's bathroom.

"Hey Sam? This is good, like, _really_ good. I just wanted you to know." Spencer called after her.

Turning on the stairs, she gave a small nod of thanks before ascending the rest of the way up.

As soon as she disappeared from view, Spencer moved to slice off another thin sliver of cake, one small enough that she wouldn't notice.

"Touch it and die, Shay!" Sam's voice warned from the floor above.

Shaking his head gently, he put the cover back onto the cake platter and made his way to his own shower to clean off all of the frosting. He'd managed to perk up her mood again, but he hoped that she wouldn't have to suffer long before finding work. Now that she was here, living with him, he was going to do whatever it took to make sure that she felt comfortable, but most importantly, purposeful.

* * *

**and that's the chapter!**

**drop me a line and let me know what you think!**

**x**


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